


Fusion

by blackstar



Series: 30 day writing challenge [13]
Category: Orphan Black (TV), Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Established Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Imprisonment, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, spoilers until the very end of season 2 of orphan black
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-04
Updated: 2014-08-08
Packaged: 2018-02-11 19:22:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2080152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackstar/pseuds/blackstar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“He’s not…” she started, completely lost to words, while she saw how the colors in the eyes of the man made way to a neon, completely unnatural, blue.<br/>“No, he’s not human.” Marian replied calmly, unfazed by the noise and proximity of the feral man.<br/>“Then… what?” Sarah asked and heard the sharp teeth clash together in yet another snarl.<br/>“He is what people would call a werewolf, Sarah.” Marian explained, taking a step closer to the glass around Sarah, looking straight into the blazing blue eyes in front of her. “His name is Derek.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Fusion

**Author's Note:**

> Day 14! 
> 
> I got tired of writing the sterek fluff I guess?

“I had evidence of another agenda but I couldn’t verify without your mother’s help.” She said, looking intently into Sarah’s eyes. “Please.” She added and started walking towards the stairs. Sarah followed. “The military never shut down project LEDA. It was compartmentalized into two autonomous operations. While DYAD carried female clones to term, the military faction carried the males.” Now, in the hall below the stairs, under the stares of the three bodyguards, Sarah looked through the glass of the door and into the small room, more like a cage in an asylum than anything else. Marian continued: “This is project Castor.” Sarah stepped even closer to the room, looking at the back of a man doing pull-ups.

His shoulders were broad and his waist – slim in comparison. His hair was black and because he was naked save for his trousers, she could see the tattoo between his shoulder blades – a figure of three interlocked spirals, painted in black. While she was waiting for him to turn around, her only thought was that it looked like the tattoo was alive itself.

Then he dropped with a thud, bending his knees slightly on impact. When he turned, Sarah studied his face – the sharp lines of his cheekbones, the hard way in which his lips were pursed; his eyes, a dark mix of blue, green, orange and brown, which sparkled with anger, the big eyebrows, which helped frame his face in an even grimmer manner. There was recognition in her mind but before she could place him, he came to the glass, lightning-fast and with an awful snarl, which bared his elongated canine teeth. Sarah jumped back and bumped into the doctor, while regaining her composure.

“He’s not…” she started, completely lost to words, while she saw how the colors in the eyes of the man made way to a neon, completely unnatural, blue.

“No, he’s not human.” Marian replied calmly, unfazed by the noise and proximity of the feral man.

“Then… what?” Sarah asked and heard the sharp teeth clash together in yet another snarl.

“He is what people would call a werewolf, Sarah.” Marian explained, taking a step closer to the glass around Sarah, looking straight into the blazing blue eyes in front of her. “His name is Derek.”

\---

Stiles was just putting down from his board a photo of a farmer, who lived two towns over and who, for a while, Stiles had believed was connected to the disappearance of Derek four months ago, when his phone started ringing. He dropped the photo and rushed to his desk, as now 95% of his incoming phone calls were regarding some sort of emergency or Derek. The caller ID surprised him, though – it wasn’t anyone from the pack or even Beacon Hills.

“Felix?” Stiles asked instead of a greeting.

“Yeah, it’s me. How’re you doing, Stiles?” Felix’ voice sounded strained, nothing like what Stiles remembered from the last time he’d seen him – in the end of the previous summer at an art course in San Diego.

“Uh…” Stiles struggled. “Seen better times, but I’m fine. What’s up, F?” he remembered the long talks they’d had about their weird lives, without actually mentioning any specifics. Stiles knew Felix was an orphan and had an adopted sister, with whom he was very close, but she had been away while they were attending the course, so Stiles never met her. Felix was a very flamboyantly gay man and so very enticing, he’d had Stiles’ attention from the moment they’d started talking. Stiles remembered Derek grumbling in almost-there jealousy the first night after Stiles hung out with Felix and also remembered the amazing sex afterwards. All that in a flash, before Felix started talking again.

“I have a weird question for you, and if you say yes you can totally forgot we even talked, it’s nothing important.”

“What?”

“Your boyfriend, Derek?”

Stiles’ heart skipped a beat before starting beating double-time. “What about him?” for a second Stiles tried to imagine this was Felix hitting on him, asking ‘are you still together’ while he’s drunk and lonely, remembering the starry-eyed Stiles from last summer. The fantasy of normality was quickly shattered.

“Is he like, with you right now? Like, not immediately next to you, but you know where he is, right?”

Stiles held his breath for a second before answering.

“Felix, I haven’t seen Derek in over four months, he’s missing.” And when on the other end of the line he heard only a loud ‘shit’, he started getting nauseous with the anticipation. “Felix, please tell me what you know.”

“We should meet. In private.” As they made the most ambiguous of arrangements, which involved picking up Stiles with a van and driving to the next state for some reason, Stiles wrote a note to leave to his father and started composing the message he’d send to Scott after he hung up. He’d have to drive for about an hour and leave his jeep alone for about a day in the middle of nowhere, and he didn’t even think twice. As he hung up on Felix, he was already texting Scott the most vague of explanations and striding to his car with the keys dangling in his hand.

\---

Sarah eyed him warily as the boy entered the van. She couldn’t exactly call him a boy, though, because he looked like no other 21-year-old guy she’s ever met, exhausted but determined, his jaw set and his eyes exploring briskly the inside of the van she’d gotten from Mrs. S. He looked like he’d been in this kind of situation before, like he’d trained to keep his cool in the weirdest of situations, like he’d seen everything there is to see in this world, at the age of 21. She felt a pang of sympathy towards him.

When Stiles had met Felix last summer, she wasn’t anywhere near, but she’d traded e-mails with F every week, and with those e-mails inevitably came photos of the people his brother was hanging out with. She couldn’t say she remembered much of the photos or the endless stories of one-night stands and boyfriends who last less than a week, but Stiles and his boyfriend had been F’s only regular friends for a couple of months, while Stiles and Felix had been taking an art course. She’d gotten plenty of pictures of the two guys, together and apart, with the stories of how F was trying to guide them to the idea of a threesome and how he failed every time. In the basement of Marian’s house, she got the spark in her mind, acknowledging that she had seen the man behind the glass before but it wasn’t until she was home, tucking Kira in, that she remembered how the face was familiar. She’d called Felix and now they were here.

Stiles nodded at Felix, who was driving the van and then turned his attention to Sarah.

“So you’re Felix’s sister?” he asked, and she nodded.

“My name’s Sarah.”

“Yeah, I’m Stiles, but can we cut to the chase? Do you know anything about Derek? Have you…” he trailed off and took a deep breath, staring at his hands and obviously composing himself. “Have you seen him?” he asked, the hope in his voice that he was trying to hide, evident.

Sarah nodded and at that, Stiles’ head snapped up, his entire attention zeroing in on her face. She took a deep breath.

“I have to start from the beginning. It’s going to sound completely insane and I don’t know if you’re going to want to believe me, but I know where Derek is, I saw him.”

\---

Stiles suddenly found it hard to breathe in a way he hadn’t experienced in a while. It wasn’t like the beginning of a panic attack but instead the anticipation of a story, of good news; it was excitement, the good kind. Derek was alive! Somewhere out there, Derek was waiting for him, for the pack, to go and get him, and Sarah, the beautiful brunette looking at him with a kind of motherly concern, was the key to finding him. Stiles hadn’t felt that sort of hope in a long time.

When he encouraged her to just go – he, after all, lived the weirdest life imaginable, he didn’t expect her to prove him wrong. She told him the story about how she learned that she was a clone, how she met the other girls, how they had been monitored their whole life, a science project for some extravagant weirdoes. And how they were now blessedly almost free, or at least under that impression for the time being. He liked that she was obviously sceptic about the science people just leaving them alone, that she didn’t trust many people, that she was suspicious of the intentions of people, that she was so protective of her daughter and obviously was careful about what she revealed about her – Stiles didn’t even know her name.

“And now comes the even weirder part.” Sarah concluded and Stiles wanted to laugh at that, because his imagination, his very active and creative imagination was at a loss as to what might be weirder. Maybe the weirder part was that he actually believed her with no question, in a heartbeat, and what she would tell him now would be the weirdest.

“I met with one of the upper-level employees of the organization I told you about.” Sarah started. “She wanted to show me two of the other… projects of the same scientists, which created us. One of them was a new attempt at making the same clones as before.”

“And the other?”

Sarah paused and looked in Stiles’ eyes for a good couple of seconds before finally responding, slowly.

“That’s where Derek comes in the picture.”

“Are they--” Stiles tried to formulate an actual question but he couldn’t. Are they experimenting on him? Are they trying to clone him? Are they torturing him?

“When they created us, they created male clones as well,” Sarah explained “for military purposes. They… worked as well, you can say, I’m sorry if that sounds harsh. But, uh, Derek was one of those clones.” she concluded.

“No… no way.” Stiles tried to think back on every little memory of what Derek had told him about his childhood but there was nothing telling him Derek hadn’t belonged in his family, was different from them. He was a born werewolf, how could he be a clone! He told Sarah as much, waving his hands around in aborted motions. “This doesn’t make any sense.”

“Look, this is what Marian told me: he _is_ a werewolf, but because he was bitten. They had left some of the clones from Castor – that’s what the project is called – to live outside the military, to monitor their lives for anything different than what happened with the ones in the military. His monitor was his father, while he was alive and after his death, they tried talking to his older sister, uh…”

“Laura.” Stiles supplied.

“Yes, her, they talked to her and tried to persuade her to be his monitor and… uh, she killed the three people they’d sent.”

Stiles huffed. That sounded exactly like the kind of person Derek had described as his older, ever-cool sister.

“When they tried tracking them down and taking Derek into the labs, another ten people from the institute and the military were killed in New York. And since that bloody encounter, they had lost his trace, until…. Yeah.”

Stiles can’t help but smirk at the knowledge that Laura had managed to keep such an organization away from Derek for so long. But was it still Laura that killed them or did Derek know as well? Could Derek keep something like this from him for so many years? Stiles dismissed the question, it wasn’t important right now. And then he remembered something.

“Wait, so you know about werewolves too?”

“As of when I saw Derek. Marian explained that he was the only one of the male clones who had been turned into a supernatural creature.” She paused and then added “What other kinds of supernatural creatures are there?” offhandedly.

Stiles waved his hand dismissively “You don’t want to get involved in all that, it’s almost as weird as the clone thing and just as dangerous to your life span.”

“Are you…?” Felix asked from the front, speaking for the first time since Stiles had arrived.

“Oh, me? No. No, 100% human. Well, like, maybe 96% or so because of some spark stuff but I’m human. Boring ol’ human. Maybe not even a clone but at this point, who knows, right?” He laughed, forced and then ran his hands through his face. “Ok, so. Can you tell me about Derek? Is he… how is he? Did you talk to him? Did he look okay to you?” Stiles asked finally, when that was the question he was itching to ask ever since they started talking. The van took a sharp turn and they both tipped a little to the side.

Sarah looked guilty all of a sudden and a dread started spreading through Stiles’ stomach.

“You’re making it worse by not talking.” F supplied from the front. “He’s going to think worse.”

Stiles felt very grateful for that and looked back at Sarah, who flipped her hair back with a determined hand and started talking.

“He is in a… holding cell in the basement of this doctor Marian I told you about. I’ve seen your picture, yours and his, from last summer, when you were with F, and he looks… like he’s lost weight. But he was doing some pretty impressive pull-ups when I first saw him so I guess he’s not weak.”

Stiles could feel relief flood his systems. Pull-ups! He could so clearly imagine Derek, a memory from mornings, pulling himself up on the frame of their bedroom door. He smiled fondly. “So did you get the chance to talk to him?” Stiles had almost forgotten the long silence and when Sarah’s eyes met him with fresh concern, he remembered her desire to not talk about it too clearly. “Just tell me, please.” He added, unable to stand the suspense.

“He was… feral is the word, I believe.”

Stiles took a deep, sharp breath.

“His eyes were flashing blue and he had his teeth bared and just… snarled at us, even when Marian tried engaging him. He just… lashed at the glass that separated us, like he wanted to rip us apart. He made this… noise, like a twisted whine and after he saw us, he wouldn’t stop thrashing until--”

“Sarah!” Felix stopped her and stopped the van, turning. “Do you not have any brains left in your head?” he asked, stepped out of his seat and squeezed between the seats, settling next to Stiles and taking his apparently shaking body (when had that happened?) in his hands, engulfing him in a hug. Stiles felt numb, the image too vivid in his mind, Derek, alone, confined behind glass, no longer pulling himself up with his powerful frame but instead feral, pleading to be let out, to be near his pack. His heart was clenching and unclenching in time with his forced breaths. “Hey. Hey, Stiles!” Felix held him at an arm’s length and waited until Stiles met his gaze. “You’re missing the point, thanks to my stupid sister. Derek’s alive. He’s alive and he’s in such a wonderful state that he’s able to pull up all that glorious ass you tap. And you now know where he is and we’re going to help you get him back, okay? So everything is better than before you came into this van, right?”

Stiles couldn’t help but agree. He nodded and clung to Felix’s words. And then he turned his attention back to Sarah:

“What… what did they do to make him stop thrashing?” And when Sarah turned a pleading stare to her brother, Stiles shook his head and added “I need to know.”

“I think it was electricity.” She said finally, her mouth curving downwards with the memory. Stiles had the perfect memories to help with his visualization: Boyd and Erica hanging from a ceiling by their hands when they had all been only 16, trembling with the shocks of electricity; Derek and Scott on the ground of a warehouse, soaked with water and clenching their teeth in the effort to not scream as a lunatic hunter was aiming a second buffed-up taser, just as Stiles and Isaac had brought the door down, two years ago.

Stiles closed his eyes and tried to remember Felix’s words again, to keep them closer to his mind than the vivid image of Derek, helpless and on the ground, shaking and unable to stand or protect himself. ‘Everything is better than before you came into this van.’


	2. Fungus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A plan to retrieve Derek is devised and put into place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have the weirdest words sometimes.   
> day 15.

The world had been switched on fast forward, Stiles though. That option where you could still hear everything and even make out most of the words, but everyone was moving unnaturally fast and kind of funny, and everything that wasn’t directly in focus was very blurred.

Scott had woken him after the record 4 hours of sleep and as they dressed, they went over the plan they’d made yesterday again.

Sarah had given them the location of the evilDoctor’s house, as Stiles referred to her, and was even going to drive with them to Portland and be back-up together with Felix in their van. She had been antsy for a couple of hours before sighing and calling one of her clone-sisters, Cosima, who said she’d help whichever way she could. Mostly, with the planning and coordination, because she was very sick, from what Stiles gathered. One of the other clone-sisters could be very helpful in this situation, Sarah had said, but she couldn’t get a hold of her on her phone and proceeded to leave strange voicemails, which included the word “sestra” a lot and a very persistent “Helena!” here and there as a single message. Sarah was as frantic as Stiles felt, even if he acted more composed than her.

Stiles got what the problem was – Sarah didn’t want to lead anyone to her daughter and she didn’t want to put her in any danger, but she still felt she needed to help. She had a very decisive moral compass, Stiles had mentioned. And that moral compass was pointing towards saving (‘retrieving’ as Lydia called it) Derek.

Either way, Stiles had mastered his cool demeanor when he was under the strongest of pressure and he handled the frantic planning and running around, the retelling of the clone story to the pack, the coordination with people he’d never met and would probably never meet, with a calm he was surprised he could keep. At one point, Scott had asked him, with his eyebrows raised high and his voice low, if he was okay and Stiles had just nodded in response, never moving his eyes away from the map he was holding. Scott had squeezed his shoulder tightly and had said, just as low as his question had been:

“He’s going to be okay, Stiles. We’ll get him back in less than 24 hours.” And at that, Stiles had felt immensely better and worse at the same time; he’d wanted to curl up and cry and also leave the map and the plans, jump in his jeep and go to Portland as fast as his baby would allow. Instead, he had nodded again and had whispered a “thank you” to his best friend.

The planning was done and the organization too, almost. Now all they had to do was wait for an hour, giving Sarah and Felix a head start so they could settle without Stiles jumping impatiently in before his time, and then leave. And get to Derek. And get Derek. Stiles closed his eyes.

-

Derek woke up in the same room he had woken up for the past 3 weeks. It looked like a cell from an asylum, white walls, which he couldn’t break through, and complete emptiness. His bed was not in fact a bed, as much as a bare white mattress on the floor, missing a pillow or a blanket. The bar they’d left on the ceiling for him to exercise with, was shiny metal, hanging from white handles. The sink and the toilet in the corner were ceramic and, again, white. The only thing that was not bleached of color in this room, was him, and sometimes he thought that wasn’t exactly true either. Sometimes his skin would look so horrifyingly pale that it felt almost see-through, like the doctors and the scientists could see inside him without the machines they used. His pants were sometimes black, sometimes gray and, what he hated most, clean and white, to match the room. That was his only attire – the pants he would change every three days.

He didn’t have much to do in his cell. He had tried asking for books after a couple of days in here, because he could see the people were different from the previous place and they looked nicer, and that woman, Marian, with a gleam in her eyes, said he would get all the books in the world if he told her his story. And it wasn’t as if she wanted to know about his whole life, either - she’d add, as if that made it better - just his life after New York. What had happened, did he have a pack, did he have a girlfriend or a wife or maybe even a child? Where did he live, what did he do for a living, had he had any health problems, that sort of thing.

Derek was left with no books. After that question, he started ignoring the woman altogether. The only time he’d reacted to her was two days ago, when she’d brought that brunette girl over, Sarah, which had stared at him with huge shocked eyes, almost reminding him of—

Then, he’d reacted, he’d lashed out and snarled, wanted her to go away, leave him alone, or maybe wanted to plead with her to please let him go, go back to his town and his house and his pack and his—

At least he knew what time it was, and what day. Across from the window, near the stairs, was the radio the guards put on when they were bored and Marian was away. Even when it wasn’t playing, the date and time were shining with bright red, keeping Derek informed at least about that. It was his eighteenth day in this cell now, and he was sitting on the ground in one corner, trying his hardest not to think of bright brown eyes and a wide smile, light touches and the sound of laughter, when he heard the window, which never opened, creaking. For the time it took him to pull his head up, a dart started flying his way. It hit his shoulder and even though Derek pulled it out right away, he could feel the numbness spreading towards his brain. He whined, feeling once again like a caged animal, and looked around before his vision started blurring. This had been the best of his cells so far, and they were taking him away again.

-

Sarah had her doubts about this. She was scared for Kira’s safety and their own lives, the idea she’d had of her little family together and away, now just a distant idea, which helped her to stay sane. Now she lived mostly day-to-day, not daring to dream, because once every dream she had was crushed, she didn’t think she’d be able to breathe anymore.

She sighed. They were almost there.

Cosima had been on the line for the past hour with her, telling her what she found in satellite images and pictures that journalists had made to publish of Marian’s house and gardens, of every weird thing she could find concerning the doctor and the estate. It wasn’t much and it wasn’t very helpful, but it was the best Sarah could find and every bit of knowledge was a straw she could grasp to, a string in a safety net she wasn’t sure existed.

She was risking her life for a bunch of strangers.

Except how it wasn’t like that. She wasn’t doing what she was doing just for the sake of it. For one, there was Felix. And there was such gentleness in the way her brother regarded Stiles that Sarah had to wonder if he wasn’t actually in love. But it wasn’t that, she’d rationed, at least not in a romantic way. Felix found Stiles fascinating and probably was astonished by the guy’s loyalty and honesty and openness. And that was the second thing as well – she’d seen enough of what Stiles continued to call ‘the pack’, to know she needed to help them. She wondered what Stiles would look like without the edge she could see now, that wary panic, lying just underneath his skin, the shards of pain, which stuck out in different places. She knew that if she couldn’t help herself and those closest to her, these people (werewolves! And a werefox and a banshee and god knows what else) deserved to be happy, free from the DYAD. Even if one of them was made by them.

Sarah looked at her own hand, as they approached Marian’s house. She was made by them as well.

Her fist clenched. She wanted to help those kids so badly. She looked at Felix, who was looking right back.

“We can do it. You’re super-clone, I believe in you, Sarah.” He said and sounded so sure. That made her smile with new certainty and push his face back towards the road.

“Look where you’re driving!” she scolded. “And thanks. We have to help them.” Felix only nodded.

-

It was happening. Now.

Stiles was drumming his fingers on the jeep’s steering wheel and looking forward. He took measured breaths, counted them to keep himself steady and in one place; he didn’t need to jitter right now.

“Something’s not right.” Scott supplied just as the front door was opening and Lydia stepped inside. Stiles jerked his head up and then almost jumped out, Scott’s hand on his shoulder the only constraint.

“If you’re not letting me go, at least tell me what’s not right. Lydia’s in there!” Scott shook his head and scrunched up his nose.

“Something smells off.”

They called Sarah to see how everything was going. She was obviously in some sort of conference call with Cosima, the scientist, and Allison, who Stiles hadn’t heard of, and they were trying to keep an eye on everything at the same time. Stiles got to be the unhelpful one, who just told them his werewolf friend claimed that something smells off. Stiles didn’t think that conversation helped anyone, or their cause.

And then his phone beeped in singular.

“He’s not here.” Scott said just as Stiles was reading Lydia’s message

                _They moved him._

The world crumbled a little more around him and Stiles found himself silently, helplessly, slipping into unconsciousness.

-

Derek woke up in a new cell. From what he’d seen in movies, this was more like solitary confinement, this tiny tiny room, which he felt couldn’t contain two people at the same time. It was dark here, the walls black and dirty. It smelled moldy and abandoned; and somewhere in there, like old blood and sweat. There was no bed. There was no window. What there was, what the first thing he saw, though, was fungus.

Mold, on the wall next to him, gave him a sliver of hope that he could break out; break the wall, run outside. That this was the beginning of the end of this disaster. That he could finally, _finally,_ go back home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh god, I'm so so very sleepy. I think I've been complaining about sleep in like 80% of these things, sorry. 
> 
> Anyway, I'll try and write a good ending to this story, maybe it will end in chapter 3. We'll see.   
> I like it so much though. .w. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	3. Incarceration

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So not 3 but maybe 5 chapters? 
> 
> day 16

Stiles dreamt of how it was supposed to go:

Lydia would knock on the evilDoctor’s door and introduce herself as a student, who works with Cosima on genetic research and wanted to ask some things on the down-low, if it was possible. The charmer that she was, she would make her go into the living room and ask genius questions, as she had with Sarah, and later Cosima, when Sarah was unable to give proper answers; Lydia would get under the evilDoctor’s skin and distract her enough so that Isaac and Scott can go into the house, through the back door, which, according to the plans, was closer to the stairwell towards Derek than the front door. They’d break inside and go down the steps, deal with the guards and anyone else they had to, and they would free Derek.

When they were ready to leave, they would text Lydia and Stiles; Lydia would suddenly have an emergency and would have to leave, distracting evilDoctor from looking at the back door, and Stiles would start the engine and edge closer to secure the fast escape they needed. Sarah and Felix were a block away, waiting for a message or some sort of indication that something was wrong, ready to act as backup.

Stiles would get Isaac and Scott, and Derek – ohgodDerek – and would drive two blocks away, wait for Lydia. While they waited, he’d stretch his arms to the back, in order to touch. He would look in Derek’s eyes and smile, and Derek would be skinnier and dirtier, looking tired and somehow off, but he would still be Derek and he would still look at Stiles in that warm and loving way. He’d smile back and grab at Stiles’ fingers and would almost pull him in for a kiss, when Lydia would open the door and jump in, laughing nervously.

They’d go home, after Stiles stopping when they were far enough, on the side of one of the roads and would take ten minutes of their traveling time to just hug Derek and kiss him and let his hands roam over Derek, making sure he was alive and okay. They would just lean against a tree on the side of the road, their friends a bit to the side, and would just whisper their “I love you”s, which they hadn’t heard for so long.

They would sleep, cuddled together, not caring that it is just after noon. All of them would go to a diner in the town, so they can talk to Sarah and Felix and properly thank them, again and again, as much as they felt was needed, because they’d just saved Derek’s life. It would be warm and glowing. Stiles would be nestled into Derek, never not touching him, while they stayed in the diner.

Sarah and Felix would stay another day or two and the pack would offer their help with literally anything. The siblings would be hesitant at first but in the end, the favor is going to be returned, ensuring the safety of their new friends, as well as the little daughter Stiles had heard so much about.

It would be perfect.

 

Stiles woke up slowly, grasping at his dream. When he finally couldn’t ignore the fact that he was conscious, he sobbed into a pillow, which was not his.

\---

Derek was trying slowly and quietly to push one of the bricks out of the wall. He was wondering how they thought leaving a werewolf in such a flimsy room was rational; his previous keepers had at least taken care of security pretty thoroughly, with at least two guards in front of his door at all times, tranquilizer guns and unbreakable walls. This, though, seemed suspicious. Either way, he was going to try his best to get away, if he was given the chance. He had one claw out and was trying, without drawing any attention to himself, to push or pull the brick away, removing first all of the cement around it. It was working, he could tell by the little dents, but it wasn’t quick.

It was quicker than just staying.

He hadn’t seen or heard anyone around; seen, partly, because he didn’t have any sort of way to look outside, but the weird part was that his senses couldn’t really catch any different scent than his. There was no other heartbeat on his floor, as far as he could tell, but there were people below and above him. They didn’t talk. At all. Just rustled around with guns dangling at their hips and moving around paperwork, as far as Derek could make out. It was unsettling. He continued with his work.

\---

It was the best distraction right now, remembering the view of Alison fretting around the house, trying to organize everything so that her children are away and her hair looks okay. She’d been in on the plan but didn’t expect that the whole group of people would end up at her house, obviously. Now, she was making the most out of it, as one would expect. Sarah, on the other hand was just sitting at the end of Stiles’ bed (which was actually Alison’s son’s bed), waiting for him to wake up. It was a weird kind of anxious, watching someone twitch nervously in his sleep, and knowing why they were in this state, even with knowing him for less than a week. Whenever Stiles would start stirring too much and mumbling in his sleep, Sarah would stretch out her hand and pat him on the leg, shushing him.

Downstairs, everyone was talking to Cosima on Sarah’s laptop, and trying to find where the hell the DYAD had taken Derek. Sarah could hear the murmurs and the loud, excited voice, filled with hope of the alpha, Scott, whenever he thought they’d found something useful. His hope would soon enough die out again, though, and that was the most discouraging sound of all.

Stiles started stirring more, more quietly, and Sarah knew he was waking up. She got up from the bed and moved a little to the side, not wanting to interrupt. She didn’t expect the sob that came out of the guy, and moved in to show herself.

“Stiles.” She said and he turned his head, pushing his arms up to his face to wipe away tears. “Hey.” She mumbled and waited a second, casting her gaze downwards.

“What happened?” Stiles asked and Sarah decided to skip over the part she was certain he remembered and got to the after:

“Remember Alison?” there was a cringe in his face but he recovered quickly:

“Your clone Alison?”

“Yeah, that one. We’re in her house right now. Everyone’s talking to Cosima downstairs, trying to figure out our next move. I think they’re making some progress right now.” She added the final as a consolation prize to brighten even a bit his ashen face. He tried giving her a smile but failed. “Are you feeling okay? There’s water there.” And she pointed to the night stand on his side. “Alison said you should drink some and get up slowly after you feel okay.” Stiles nodded and threw his feet over one side of the bed and made to go up.

“How’re you doing, lover boy?” Felix’s voice came over from the door and Sarah got up as her brother got closer. “I’ll look after him.” He said quietly, squeezing her shoulder and throwing her a wide smile.

Sarah got out of the room as Felix and Stiles started talking but she tuned them out. She didn’t particularly want to go downstairs and be a part of the big decision making but knew she didn’t have much of a choice – she was as involved as she would get. Downstairs, the silence started to sound a bit deafening and she felt like something was wrong, as she got closer. She sped up her steps.

When she got to the end of the stairs, she saw everyone frozen around the room, in different positions. She was about to ask what was happening when her gaze got to the front door. There stood Derek, the man she’d seen from the pictures, who’d always kept near Stiles, smiling and looking great. It wasn’t the Derek she’d seen at Marian’s house, feral and exhausted, looking desperate. His head snapped up to look at the new presence and with his, came almost everyone else’s, probably expecting a Stiles, who was ready to freak out. Sarah opened her mouth to ask but Alison started first:

“Sarah… meet Johnathan.” Johnathan moved his hand up, as a greeting or a surrender, and nodded. “He’s one of the male clones.” Alison finished and looked back at him. “He has some information he wants to share.”

\---

Derek was a distrustful person by nature and nurture. After the life he had lived, it was almost impossible to catch him off-guard when it came to easy outs or believing new people. Yet, that night he did both.

The hours were ticking away and no one had come to see if he was alive or awake, or scratching at the feeble wall in an attempt to run away. There were no scientists and no guards and it was very abnormal, as far as his previous (rich) experience with incarceration had covered. Yet, he didn’t stop and after a while, the dents were significant even if his claws ached and he felt exhausted. He was still trying his hardest to be stellar and quiet, deliberately slowing himself down, so that was a calming knowledge – maybe they thought he was still sleeping because he was not screaming; maybe they had more important work right now and as long as he didn’t remind them of himself, things would be okay.

When he pulled the brick in, cautious that he might have to put it back in if he couldn’t see a way out right now and had to buy himself more time or sleep, he didn’t expect to see what he did.

From what he could gather in the darkness, there was a space, maybe big enough for a person to stand and sit, crammed, and then another wall. He cursed under his breath and punched his wall in frustration, making another couple of bricks fly outward, stopped quickly by the outer wall. There was a quiet surprised yell from the other side at the ruckus and Derek froze.

“Who’s there?” he hadn’t heard his own voice in more than two weeks, not making actual words at least; he sounded hoarse. There was a silence from the other side and then two hands showed up from the hole in the wall Derek had created.

“Don’t hurt me, please.” A familiar voice said from the other side. Derek couldn’t quite process what his senses were telling him. Was he going insane after the many days, weeks and months of being left alone with his thoughts? And then the head, which belonged to the arms, showed itself in the crack, and there was no second opinion. It was like looking at himself in the mirror, except the reflection was of him, if he hadn’t put so much work in the way his body performed and looked. Him, if he was a normal human and not a buffed-up werewolf. He took a second to take it in with all of his senses. The guy on the other end of this conversation was lean and smelled similar to him, even if a bit odd; he could mistake it for himself, going on scent alone. His hair and his beard were longer than Derek’s, but not by much, and his eyes were the same, but wide with fear. Fear, but not the surprise Derek felt.

“Who are you?” He finally managed, not pulling his eyes away.

“My name’s Kyle. From the look on your face, I’d say you don’t know so I’m just going to tell you and please don’t freak out.” The guy sounds a bit like Stiles, Derek couldn’t help but think and a strong pang of pain made itself known in his chest when he thought of Stiles rambling.

“Tell me what?”

“We’re clones. I mean, obviously we’ve taken some different life choices from what I can see, but we are clones.”

At least he was to the point from the beginning. And for the second time that evening he broke his own rules in life, his own nature, by trusting this stranger who looked like him but reminded him more of Stiles and dropped his hands down.

“I’m not going to hurt you.” He said finally and waved Kyle a bit a way, indicating he was planning on finishing his work. He broke through enough of the wall so that he could go through it. It wasn’t quiet or slow and his hand was bleeding now, but he couldn’t quite make himself care. It would heal soon enough. He stepped through the hole and into the narrow space on the other side, standing next to Kyle. The two of them looked over the other as if looking in a freaky circus mirror. “My name is Derek.” He said, deciding that was a good starting point. As they shook hands, awkwardly, Derek added “Do you mind explaining what’s happening? And also, where are we?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! 
> 
> I can't cut this short, I have so many ideas, it's maddening. :D

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! 
> 
> Next chapter should be out tomorrow. I hope I still have ideas. I feel like you have to put in 200 times more effort into an Orphan Black fic because the show is just so unbelievably smart. But yeah, I'll try. I'm so so pumped! 
> 
> Unrelated, but who's your favorite clone? :D
> 
> Also, just imagine a world with infinite Derek's, clones of Derek all around. Just. Imagine.  
> Yeah. You're welcome. I'm happy with that image forever.


End file.
